Sea of Cortez Diving: A Baja Road Trip--Monday, December 10, 1990

Diving out of Loretto

Since Francisco is fishing with some of his compadres, we go into Loretto to the Fantasia dive shop that is part of the Stouffer’s resort. We speak with Gonzalo, recently returned to Loretto from Oxnard, California, about getting out on a boat for a couple of dives. We are quoted an initial cost of $60 per person. We three must have involuntarily blanched at the mention of the price. Gonzalo hesitates and without skipping a beat lowers the price to $50 per person. We agree to the price realizing that with the bigger pangas that the hotel uses, we will be able to go to the more distant locations around Loretto.

Before heading out, we stopped at the town’s breakwater to take on refreshments for our time between dives. The skipper warned that he might have to fuel on the way back, but that was not necessary. 

The panga quickly speeds across the 10 miles separating the mainland from Isla Coronado.  The seas are very light and the boat seems to skim across the wavelets.  The winds we encountered in Mulege have thus far not appeared here.

Our first dive at La Piedra Blanca or "the white rock." The area drops off rapidly, forming a very large and lengthy wall. The resort insists that we be guided by a divemaster on each dive.

We dropped down at about 11:00 a.m. and had a maximum depth of 85 feet coming up slowly for a total bottom time of 20 minutes. The second dive was at another nearby location, Punta de la Fajas. Both dives were good, although our divemaster seemed to want to set a barracuda’s pace on the first dive. We had other ideas.

I remember from my time leading dives at the now-defunct Club Med at Playa Blanca in Mexico that the divemaster’s main task was to keep the group moving as a unit. If one dawdled, the group would spread out as the stronger divers raced ahead and the weaker divers lagged behind. As it was, Brandon was taking pictures, patiently waiting for just the right moment to trip the shutter. Andy and I seemed less inclined to concentrate on a single spot and moved about. Soon, we were spread out and well behind the divemaster. But that’s the way we wanted to dive. The 50+ foot visibility allowed us to maintain visual contact and mitigated our failure to keep close proximity to each other. I was the first to reach 500 p.s.i. and signaled my intention to go up leaving Andy paired up with Brandon.  I snap a shot of Brandon just before I ascend.

The dives were great. The reef abounded with sea scallops and the fish were colorful, what I term the "tropical aquarium" variety. The eels are smaller than the ones I encounter at the Channel Islands, which is surprising because I had always assumed that the tropical eels would be much larger than their colder water counterparts.

Between dives, Brandon explained the differences in the sea life compared to that of the Santa Barbara Channel. Like Doc Ricketts, he has an unquenchable curiosity about the critters and a very methodical technique for finding them. For each habitat, he seems to know what critters should be there and then he meticulously examines the area until he finds them, definitely a macro approach to discovering the underwater world. 

I am more inclined to explore, scout, or reconnoiter an area to randomly see the big picture. Anything interesting I find, like the blue lobster on the second dive, gets found via serendipity rather than by any structured search. Andy seems inclined to go with the flow, taking up a middle position between me in the lead and Brandon in the rear. We get separated sometimes, but with 50-foot-plus visibility, keeping in visual contact is not a problem. As is my habit, I circle back every so often just to see how things are going.

On the second dive, the divemaster moved at the pace car speed. We manage to stay together a little better as he races ahead. The divemaster places a small sardine in his mouth trying to coax a nearby barrcuda to snatch it.  But, we are here to explore, not watch a show.  Eventually, he got tired of trying to lead us and went back to the boat to await our ascent. 

When I got back on the panga, he related that he could see we were good divers and didn’t really need an escort (or by extension to be entertained while diving). None-the-less, we did generously tip the guide and the skipper.  We did enjoy the day, and decide to charter with the shop again on Wednesday, our last dive before heading back to California.

We take a break from camp cooking by indulging in a meal at the El Nido restaurant in Loretto. I had fish kabob and cold Pacifico beer while my companions settled on the fish platter.

Back in camp, I walk around the area to take in the view.  Very unique mountains, called "goat tip peaks" backdrop our playa.

I met Bill, a self-described snowbird from San Diego; which seems a little odd since I am not sure someone from a warm weather climate fits that description. He and his wife are searching for arrowheads on this trip. Bill related that a few years earlier, he had traded a local farmer some seeds for a copper, horse saddlehorn canteen that the farmer had found while plowing a field. Bill estimated the artifact to be between 200 and 300 years old.

Besides the couple from San Diego, our stretch of beach is shared by a group from Switzerland and Germany, with a liberal sprinkling of Canadians. The cove of which the beach is a part is shared with a fishing village and semi-permanent North Americans who call the beach "home" during the winter year after year. The roosters in this rural setting sleep later than their relatives in "urban" Mulege. I don’t hear the first crow until about 5:30 a.m.